


Love Me Like It's Prom Night

by ilili



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Prom fic, Unrequited Crush, not an au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 03:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8040055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilili/pseuds/ilili
Summary: an 18 year old fareeha asks the beautiful angela ziegler to be her date to prom. yknow, just as friends.





	Love Me Like It's Prom Night

**Santa Monica, CA:**

 

Fareeha paces the hallway outside the watchpoint common room ceaselessly, running through every possible outcome in her mind, settling in to the best ones before having her peace shaken by the worst.

_She'll probably agree, right? She wouldn't just say no..?_ she asks herself for the umpteenth time.

She stops, takes a deep breath, and spins on her heel to face the doorway, ever ready to face the unknown. It's just that this... was a greater unknown than she'd anticipated.

_...Yes. Angela would love to go to prom with me._ she resolves, answering her own question.

She takes a step towards the door, anxiety building. _She just thinks I'm a stupid kid..._ Another step. _But we've known each other for years, she must_ like _me-_ A third. _-and even if she doesn't like me that way, she'll still agree to come, she'll think it's a joke, and then maybe I can show her how I feel, and maybe she'll feel the same-_

She reaches for the door handle for what feels like an eternity, caught between her fear of rejection and her every impulse telling her to drive forward and face the threat head on, when she freezes at the sound of heels clicking on the linoleum floor behind her.

She turns around to see who's coming and comes face to face with an angel.

"Fareeha?" comes Angela's voice, smooth like a melody, sending Fareehas heart pumping at the sound of her own name. "What are you doing here? School shouldn't be over for another hour, should it?" she asks, rolling back the sleeve of her black turtleneck to check her watch. Fareeha can't help but wince at this; she was trying to ask this woman out on a date, and Angela was talking to her like a child playing hookie.

"I u-uh, get off early on mondays." she answers, a bit too quickly, cringing a little as Angela pauses, then nods animatedly followed by a wink, her signal that she doesn't believe her but she also doesn't plan on telling her mother.

Fareeha wasn't lying; she had a free period on mondays, and it happened to be at the end of the day; she was innocent by all accounts, and she would argue the point, but this date proposal was already awkward enough with Angela playing the "cool adult" to her "rebel teen" without her trying to sound like more of a girl scout than she imagined Angela perceived her to be.

Then the thought occurs to her that this may be the first time Angela has seen her "rebel" (as false as it was), and the fact that she's playing along to defend her without any questions makes her palms clam up. 

So things are going great. 

"U-um, you look really nice t-today!" said Fareeha, half trying to deflect the current line of conversation, half wanting to gush over Angela. 

She did look good; better than good to an 18 year old Fareeha. She was wearing her usual doctors coat over a black turtleneck dress, which hugged her figure not too closely to be unprofessional, but enough that you could see the curves of her hips, the shape of her thighs, the size of her-

_Mind out of the gutter, Fareeha!_ she heard her mothers voice say, feeling the phantom smack of her hand against the back of her head. 

Angela just laughed, and Fareeha felt some red creeping into her cheeks. 

"Well, aren't you charming today?" she giggles, stifling her laughter with her hand. Fareeha feels like she could melt right on the spot. "Now, what brings you to the Watchpoint today? Your mother is busy meeting new recruits today-"

"I-I'm actually here to see you!" Fareeha cuts her off, almost shouting. This was already going poorly; better to rip the bandage off quickly, as her mother would always say.

Angela looks surprised for a moment, then her lips curl back up into a smile. "...And what can I help you with, then?" 

The moment of truth. Fareeha's heart is pumping a mile a minute. _Take the plunge, idiot!_ her brain screams at her.

Deep breath in, like she practiced.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go to prom with me?!" she almost yells, and she hears people stir in the common room at the noise. (A few stifled laughs as well.) 

Angela's face looks somewhere between confused and impressed, but she doesn't say anything at first. Fareeha tries to fill the gap.

"I-I mean, as my date! Well not as a dATE WE CAN GO AS FRIENDS??? BECAUSE YOU'RE SUCH A GOOD FRIEND TO MY MOTHER (what) AND SHE TRUSTS YOU (WHAT) AND I TRUST YOU TOO AND-"

Angela cuts her off with more giggling, and she feels her stomach do a flip. 

"Of course I'll be your date, Fareeha!" she laughs, letting out a cute little snort that almost makes the younger woman pass out. "You don't have to explain, I'll absolutely go with you. It'll be fun!" There's a hint of genuine excitement in her voice that emboldens her immeasurably, makes her want to sprint to the highest point on the watchpoint and scream _"I HAVE A DATE WITH ANGELA ZIEGLER!"_ , but instead she plays it cool. Or at least, as cool as she can when her knees are locked in place and there's a cold sweat running down her back.

"G-great!" she says, trying to sound as calm as possible when a beautiful 23 year old doctor agrees to go to prom with you. "It's in May! The 28th! So, a few weeks from now!!!" 

"Then I'll make sure to find a nice dress by then, I suppose." smiles Angela. Fareeha's legs shift from locked in place to pure jello in an instant. 

They stand there staring at each other in silence, until

"Now if you'll excuse me... I only have an hour for lunch, so..." she gestures to the common room door behind Fareeha.

"OH." she responds, almost jumping out of the way to clear the door. Angela giggles one last time before brushing past her, disappearing into the common room and out of sight.

Fareeha needs to sit down. She leans against the wall next to the door and sinks to the floor, beaming from ear to ear and buzzing happily.

Her private celebration is broken by a low whistle, and she turns to see Jesse standing in the doorway, grinning devilishly. 

"God damn, Far." he laughs. "Some of the boys have been trying to angle that one for years, and here you come baggin' her in one go!" he tips his hat in mock salute. "Just so you know, there's no hard feelins'. We were all rootin' for you." 

Jesse winks, and is if on queue a chorus of whoops emenates from the room behind him. 

Fareeha turns beet red, springs to her feet, and sprints all the way home.

 

* * *

 

 

  
The weeks leading up to the prom go by agonizingly slow; Fareeha vainly attempts to pour herself into her studies, but the thought of slow dancing with Angela under the stars distracts her the second she tries to focus. She relents to fantasizing about the night to come; it wasn't as if she needed perfect grades to join the military. She knew uncle Gabriel had grown up during the omnic crisis, here in L.A. where they'd been hit harder than most. Not many people growing up then ever received a formal education outside of a few Overwatch outreach programs. Jesse, too, hadn't gone to school at all, for reasons he'd never shared but she knew weren't pleasant.

She can stand to have a few C's and D's on her transcript, she decides.

 

* * *

 

 

  
The night of the prom arrives after what feels like an eternity.

Fareeha wears a blue dress with a laced gold trim. It hugs her body a bit more tightly than she's comfortable with, and is completely backless ("You're going to be quite the heartbreaker, Fareeha!" her mother had laughed when she picked it out), but at least the skirt was poofy; it hid how thin her hips really were.

She'd chosen the dress that was the best compromise between what she thought Angela would like, and what wasn't completely mortifying to wear. 

She figures it would be more romantic for to wait in her room until Angela arrived, descend the stairs regally to the sound of horns and a blizzard of roses, but anxiety got the better of her; instead, she sat in the kitchen drinking idly ("You're going to drink anyway, might as well be something I gave you.") while her mother flitted around the house trying to locate a camera.

She hated the taste of beer, but it was doing wonders on the knots that had formed in her stomach. Before she could take another sip, there was a ring of the doorbell, and the past hour she'd spent trying to calm herself ended up amounting to nothing. Ana composed herself surprisingly quickly for someone who'd been tearing the house apart only seconds ago, and gestured wildly (but silently) for Fareeha to come greet her guest. 

It takes her a moment to shake the weight from her legs, but she strides to the door filled with purpose. 

She was anxious, yes, but Angela was here for her. Angela Ziegler, world renowned doctor, scientist, and **hero** was at her door to take her to prom; she wasn't going to let her fear ruin that. 

She opens the door, and her breath catches in her throat.

People have described Angela as an angel before, her included, but she'd never looked more the part than right now.

Her hair tumbles down over her shoulders and back, no longer held in its usual ponytail, and it seems to sparkle golden in the lamplight outdoors. She wears a long, sleeveless white gown that ruffles at the skirt and ends just below her ankles; Fareeha sees she's wearing tall dress sandals, silver this time, that bring her only an inch or so shorter than her.

Fareeha can't find words, so Ana speaks for her.

"Angela, you look absolutely gorgeous." she exclaims almost in awe, and the younger woman's cheeks turned bright red. She giggles, and tucks a tuft of hair behind her ear idly before realizing she must have ruined hours of work her hairdresser had done in one swift motion. 

"I hope I'm not overdressed for the occasion?" she asks, suddenly looking more self conscious than Fareeha. "I took so long to get ready, and driving here in... this" she gestures to herself, and Fareeha takes that as an invitation to drink in how she looks one more time. "-was such a hassle, I didn't want to turn back once I'd gotten going, and-"

"You look beautiful." says Fareeha, and both women turn to look at her. Angela's expression eases considerably, as though she'd just remembered why she were here, and she cracks a smile. 

"Aha, well you are my date." she laughs, and her heart leaps. "-If you think I look good, then I have nothing to fear."

 

Before she has a chance to respond, Ana nudges her out the door.

"Stop flirting, daft girl! Let me get a picture of you two!" 

They both can only share a mortified glance before Ana has them standing next to each other on the lawn, camera in hand, a huge grin on her face (and tears in her eyes, although both her and Angela know better than to point it out.) 

They hover next to each other awkwardly for a while, Ana taking pictures, until she stops and shoots them both a grimace. 

"Bah, stand closer to each other! Hold hands or something, this is your graduation date!" she tuts. Fareeha can feel her palms start to clam up again, but before she can do anything about it Angela takes both her hands in her own.

 

Her first thought: _Angelas hands are soft._

Her second: _I want to die, right here, right now on my own front lawn._

Ana shrieks gaily, and Fareeha knows it's because of her reaction; her mother had a sharp eye, but anyone would have noticed her entire body freeze and her eyes damn near pop out of her skull. 

Her only saving grace was that Angela was laughing too, now. There was always something calming about the sound. She salvages her pride on the idea that she must think she's cute, at least, if no longer charming.

"Relax, Fareeha. We can get through some photos together, can't we?" says Angela, straightening herself up to face the camera. Fareeha mirrors her unconsciously, eliciting a snicker from her mother, who snaps another picture.

"Besides, you only graduate from highschool once, right?" 

Fareeha thinks she detects a hint of wistfulness in her voice, but doesn't press it. Not while mom is right there, and there's a (hopefully) magical night to be had; she's ruined more than a few dates in her girlhood by prying when she really shouldn't have.

 

Maybe subconsciously she'd done it on purpose; none of those girls were Angela Ziegler, after all.

 

Ana snaps a few more pictures, far past the point of comfort for Fareeha or Angela, until she's finally satisfied.

"I think I'll let you kids go, then." she finally declares with a sly wink. They both blush at this, Fareeha not entirely clear about where exactly Angela's embarrassment comes from, and say their goodbyes as they climb into the doctor's car. 

It's a bit of an ordeal for Fareeha with her poofy skirt, but she manages it almost-gracefully and finally settles, long legs and all, into the passenger seat next to Angela.

 

 

Just as Angela opens her mouth to say something, her phone rings like a siren. Her eyes go wide and she scrambles to fish her phone out of her purse, answering in a panic while Fareeha looks on, confused and more than a little scared.

"Ziegler speaking...? Gott, _how_ many?!?" she casts a quick glance towards Fareeha before setting her gaze towards her lap. The two of them sit in silence while Angela listens intently to the voice on the other end of the line, Fareeha watching the doctor's mind at work as she takes a new mental note for every word.

"Yes... Yes, of course I'm listening!!! ...Yes, I had plans tonight but..." 

Another sideways glance from Angela, and Fareeha feels her heart drop into her stomach.

The expression she wears now is wracked with guilt as she silently mouths the words _I'm sorry._ and shrugs gingerly.

_I have to go._

Fareeha can only nod.

She steps out of the car almost robotically, fighting her every impulse to stay and protect Angela from whatever emergency demands her attention, prom be damned, but she knows that wherever she's going, she'd only get in the way; Fareeha fights with her fists in schoolyard scraps like a child, and Angela fights with a scalpel to save peoples lives.

She watches from the curb, feeling small as Angela finishes her call and begins to pull out into the street, but not before shooting Fareeha one last sad smile before disappearing into the night.

 

* * *

 

 

"I'm sorry Fareeha... I knew you were looking forward to it..." comes her mothers soft voice, muffled from how Fareeha buries herself in her arms. She sobs openly while Ana brushes through her hair, soothing her. "... and I know Angela was looking forward to it, too."

She can almost feel the salt hit the wound. She feels numb from crying so much, but it doesn't stop her from letting out a choked gasp and more tears. 

Angela Ziegler had looked forward to their date, and now it would never happen. 

She would never slow dance with Angela under the stars, never tell her how she feels while the lights around the campus illuminated them like the fated lovers she knew they were, never kiss her as the music swelled while the credits rolled.

_Here I am, afraid Angela will think I'm a child, while I dwell on stupid fantasies like this._ she thinks.

"I'm just going to spend the night in, I guess." she finally sighs, separating from her mother's arms and standing to brush off her skirt. "There's no point in going now..."

Ana snaps to attention faster than Fareeha can blink. "Fareeha! You've been looking forward to this for months, you're not going to call it off because your friend can't come, are you?" 

She phrases it like a question but Fareeha knows she means it more like an order. Before she can protest, her mother is rushing towards the kitchen. 

"Stay right there, girl! Mother is going to make a few calls!"

The night goes from depressing to mortifying very quickly.

 

 

An hour passes, Ana pacing the house more frantically than she'd done waiting for Angela, and Fareeha resuming her silent vigil in the kitchen, no longer drinking but staring at her phone, watching with dull eyes as her social media feed flicks through the happy faces of her few school friends having the time of their lives at prom. The pervasive thought that that could have been her and Angela roots itself into her mind the longer she stays glued to her phone, and so, with considerable effort on her part, she tosses it onto the counter. This hurt, yes, but she would have to put off dwelling for now, at least until she got through whatever last minute effort her mother had cobbled together to save her night.

Finally, the doorbell rings, and she's surprised to feel the faintest spark of excitement as her mother rushes to the door to greet their guests. 

The feeling dissipates quickly the second she hears that familiar, low whistle. 

Standing on her porch is one Jesse McCree, dressed to kill in his finest (hastily borrowed, unironed) evening wear. 

She feels her heart sink for nth time that night, when suddenly she sees Jesse grasp his side and let out a pained grunt, followed by a deep laugh behind him. The mystery figures slip into view.

Flanking Jesse on either side is her uncle Gabriel, kissing her mothers hand and apologizing for the "ingrate", as well as for being so late. ("We'd have been here in half an hour if the idiot here had his own tux. Had to let him borrow one of my old ones.")

And on the other side, elliciting a gasp from Fareeha, was Jack Morrison himself, laughing wryly.

"Take it easy on him, Gabe. When have you or Ana ever let him off his leash long enough to go clothes shopping anyway?" 

Her mother laughs at this, and Gabriel's face softens a bit. Jesse looks positively wounded.

 

 

The four of them talk for a bit, Fareeha watching from the sidelines like a deer in the headlights, until finally

"Fareeha! Come say hello to the handsome young men taking you to prom!" her mother puts a sly emphasis on "young" that makes her uncle crack a big smile and Jesse follow suit while Mr. Morrison winces a bit. 

She steps out of the kitchen into the foyer to meet everyone, and her uncle immediately gasps in awe, elliciting a sharp crack of laughter from everyone, including Fareeha.

"Honey, you look amazing... Hell, I can hardly believe something so beautiful came from your mom-" 

A yelp of pain from her uncle as Ana dug her fist directly into his side, causing yet more laughter. 

"Anyway, we're here to take you to your dance... thing." smiles Jesse, and, leaning in as if to keep it between them "...I know you must be feelin' heartbroken right now, darlin'. I know what its like to be pinin' for someone who's always on the run. Just when you have 'em right where you want 'em they find a way to get away from you." 

Jesse takes her hand sweetly, offering her a sympathetic smile. "...So how's about you come out with us tonight? Keep yer mind off things?" 

Fareeha feels tears beginning to well up, but holds them back. She's cried enough tonight; she wasn't going to let herself fall apart when everyone had gone so far out of the way to save her night.

She looks past Jesse, towards the doorway, and sees her mother, Gabriel, and Jack all waiting expectantly for her answer. 

She sniffs back her tears for the last time.

"...Deal."

 

* * *

 

 

  
The rest of the night is a blur.

They arrive more-than-fashionably late, Fareeha carried in on her uncle and Jack's shoulders to the cries of her classmates. (presumably jealous of her, although probably too interested Mr. Morrison to notice.) 

She shares a dance with each one of her "dates", stiff and awkward with Jack but fast and loose with Jesse and her uncle. Eventually the music slows and she's forced to relent Gabriel to Mr. Morrison, who wade out onto the dancefloor to share a song together. 

Between the (admittedly illegal) drinking with Jesse and watching her uncle slow dance with Jack, she begins to wonder if this might be what a real Overwatch gala would look like, minus the drunk teenagers.

She thinks she might be able to get used to this.

 

* * *

 

 

  
She paces the hallway outside of Angela's room ceaselessly, running through every possible outcome in her mind. Her mind settles into the best ones, and she's still pleasantly buzzed enough to not care about the worst.

It's 4am in the morning, and she ran all the way to the watchpoint after the prom had finished. She had one thing she still wanted to do.

She knocks on the door and hears shuffling from the room on the other side, followed by a few muffled curses in german.

A few seconds pass, and Angela opens the door.

For some reason, Fareeha hadn't expected to see her in the grey-green scrubs she wore now. Maybe it was because she was drunk, but more than likely it was because her dress from earlier that night had left such a lasting impression on her; the mental image of Angela in her gown would stick with her forever.

Her scrubs were covered in brown stains where blood had dried, and her hair was pulled back in a hastily-drawn ponytail; a few strands of hair that hadn't been tied back stuck to her forehead, apparently not enough of an annoyance for her to fix. Her face was clammy, and heavy bags hung underneath her eyes, but she still lit up upon seeing her visitor.

"Fareeha..? What are you doing here so late..?" 

"I wanted to see you." 

Angela's looked taken aback for a moment, then laughed.

"Goodness, Fareeha! That's a bit bold, don't you think?" 

She still thinks I'm a child. thought Fareeha.

She grinned. She couldn't help herself.

"...Do you like it when I'm bold?"

Silence fills the hallway. Fareeha swears she could hear a pin drop on the other side of the base. Angela's expression is unreadable, and the all-encompassing sensation that she's in over her head consumes her. Until,

"...What do you want, Fareeha?" Angela asks, softer than she could have expected.

 

Her heart skips a beat.

_She didn't say no._

Her mind races through the implications of their exchange before she remembers why she even came in the first place.

 

"I uh, wanted to give you something." 

Fareeha reaches into her sweater pocket and produces a small bouquet of crumpled synthetic flowers. A corsage.

Angela gasps as Fareeha kneels in front of her, offering to take her hand.

"May I?"

Angela nods. Fareeha slips the elastic band around her wrist, savoring the moments where their hands touch, silently thrilling at the brush of skin against skin.

She stands, and Angela stares at the flowers, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Do you like them? I hoped you would." asks Fareeha.

"Oh, Mein Liebling, they're beautiful..." 

She takes a moment to compose herself, crying openly as Fareeha stares, her heart pounding.

 

In front of her is Angela Ziegler, covered in dried blood and sweat and now wet with tears, and in this moment Fareeha thinks that there has never been a more beautiful woman in the history of the world.

 

"You know Fareeha I... I always wanted to go to a prom." says Angela, breaking the silence.

"Well, we don't have proms as they have them here in America... Back in Switzerland, I mean." 

"Oh?" says Fareeha.

"No, we just graduated... No pomp and circumstance. People often threw parties but... I always wanted to have a prom." says Angela, trying to laugh through the tears. "...But I never did get to finish highschool, anyway." she starts to choke up again.

"Oh."

Fareeha had known Angela had lost her parents at a young age, but that was all she knew; the doctor never opened up to anyone about it. She'd carried that burden alone. Until now.

"...Anyway, you don't want to hear about my personal life." she sniffed. "...Thank you, Fareeha."

 

Fareeha wanted to tell her she couldn't be any more wrong, that she loved her and wanted to be the one she could tell anything and everything to. But she knew she couldn't. She was 18 years old and about to enlist in the army out of highschool. She would be on the other side of the world serving her home country, dreaming of the day she could join Overwatch herself. 

She desperately hoped Angela would be there when she did.

 

"...You're welcome."

 


End file.
